


A little Kindness

by HaroldSaxon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Kink, M/M, One Shot, Sansa is slightly abusive, Smut, Vaginal Sex, insane asylum, poor Petyr, public disgrace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroldSaxon/pseuds/HaroldSaxon
Summary: Sent to purgatory to suffer for his sins after his death, Petyr finds himself locked up as an inmate in an insane asylum from hell. He is restrained and scared, completely alone and drugged up to his eyeballs. Then Sansa appears and wants to offer him some comfort. He finally gets what he wants...sort of...A little smutty one shot piece that takes place in the Mock(ing)bird verse. If you enjoy the original series as it is, and don't want me to mess with your head, skip this one. If you don't mind a bit of scary kink, come on in.





	A little Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> A little piece I wrote a while ago that takes place in the Mock(ing)bird verse (The series that I am currently writing). I first wanted to incorporate it, but it went too much into kink territory to really fit into the story. I either had to bin it, or I could toss it out into the world and terrorize you lot with it. (Tadaah!) It’s basically pure smut, cooked up at 2 in the morning after consuming too much alcohol and aspirin (an absolute winning combination, if you want to puke your guts out afterwards).
> 
> Time wise: This takes place somewhere in chapter 8 (a little song, part I)...Or you could banish it from your mind after reading and pretend this never ever happened to poor Petyr...

 

Sansa was not supposed to appear in Petyr’s cell. Disguised as his made-up niece Alayne, she should only be present inside his head, in the mental refuge that he had created for himself. He spent hours there now, forced into unconsciousness by the heavy medication given to him to relieve him from the pain that Ramsay had caused, or he would naturally escape there when he drifted off to sleep at night. He had always managed to keep the two separated, the real world from his sacred sanctuary. He absolutely did not want one to blend into the other, otherwise what was the bloody point? Why create a safe haven in the first place, if it could not shelter him from harsh reality?

 But there she was, bleeding into his hazy drug infused vision, an uninvited intrusion in his suffering. He was pretty sure that he was still awake. Like every night, He was tied down in his iron frame bed, and he could feel the strain of the leather, cutting into his wrists, ankles, and chest through the thin fabric of his dirty sweat soaked hospital robe. He could not exactly remember what he had done, but he must have given Sandor Clegane, his warden, some trouble during the day, for he had left him strapped inside his sweltering straight jacket, just to spite him.

 _Maybe it’s the pills._ He thought, feeling his belly tighten with worry. They have given him more than usual, to keep him a bit more docile, to stop him from screaming all night.…and it had brought her here, pulled her out straight from the calming picture he so cherished in his mind and into this real terrifying world.

Her very presence struck him with fear and despair.

“So, this is where you go when you’re hiding from me.” Sansa said. The lights had already been switched off for an hour or so, and it was pitch dark, except for the little safety light that remained lit above the locked door. He could still see her though. He could sense her presence as if she was standing in clear daylight. She seemed so real that it astonished him. Her dyed black hair framed her pale delicate features. Her eyes glistened in the dark. She glanced around the tiny room that was his prison and pouted her lips. “It’s not much. It must be very disappointing for you to be kept here. There is not even a window for you to look outside.”

“Sansa.” He muttered, his voice hoarse. He wanted to see her. He always wanted to see her, but not _here_. Not like _this_. “Why are you here?”

“You don’t want me here?” She came to sit down on his bed by his side. Her blue eyes curiously studied the leather straps that kept him restrained.

“Could you…please...go back where you belong?” He felt his cheeks flush hot when he saw her eyes wander over the straps of his straight jacket. He could die of shame, right here and now. Of course he knew she wasn’t real. She was supposed to be a representation of his reason that his damaged needy little mind had made up to comfort him and to keep him sane, but she was supposed to be _contained_. She was part of his mental refuge that he had created, and she was never supposed to see him like this - so very _pathetic_ , and so utterly _helpless_.

“Go back.” He begged. His drug infused mind played such a convincing trick on him that he was now bargaining with her in a futile effort to prevent further humiliation. “There is no need for you to be here. I will come to you. Please Sansa, go back.”

Her lips - beautiful, soft, and pink, curled into a little smile. “You can’t move, can you?” She said quietly. "And that shames you. It shames you that you have let them treat you like this, that they have reduced you into an almost mindless wreck, strapped down to a dirty urine soaked mattress in an empty prison cell.”

“C-Could you please go and just…leave me be?” He whispered. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking away his tears, feeling truly miserable.

“There is no reason be so downhearted." She told him in a kind voice. "You should consider yourself very lucky. This is already so much better than how it was before.” She loomed over him. Her red locks brushed over his hollow cheeks. “Remember Ramsay? Remember Myranda? What they did to you down there in that cellar, _that_ was truly horrible. It was also very painful, wasn’t it Petyr? You can be honest with me. I have been through it myself. I was married off to that monster and had to suffer him for months. Don't you recall?”

“I-I am sorry.” He stammered weakly.

“There is no need to say that. I am here to help you, not to chastise you. Tell me, and be truthful, when you were kept down there in that cellar, chained up like an animal in the dark, whenever Myranda or Ramsay did those horrible things to you, did you ever…pretend them to be someone else?”

S-someone else?”

"I know that highborn ladies are not supposed to talk about this, but...when Ramsay let Myranda have her wicked ways with you, did you shut your eyes, and force yourself to forget about her? Did you think of me, and did you pretend it was me, who was touching you?"

“Please-“ He whispered, his voice broke as the trauma resurfaced. “Please don’t-“ He pleaded. Much distraught, he nudged his ear against his shoulder, his head twitching uncontrollably. “Stop reminding me of all that –“

“Don't be ashamed. I completely understand why you did it. It reduced the pain. It made it just a little bit more bearable. Shshsh.” She calmed him when she saw him wriggle and squirm in distress. “Shshsh. Calm now. Ramsay is not here. His dogs are not here. It’s just me. Trust me Petyr, I would never hurt you.” She gently stroked his damp curls. “Nothing you did was truly shameful. It was just a clever trick, born out of necessity. You wanted me. You have always wanted me. You were trapped in a horrible situation. You were scared and alone and in great agony. Imagining me doing those things to you, helped you to survive. it gave you comfort when you needed it the most. So why would there be any fault in that?”

Her hands wandered under the fabric of his hospital gown. He wasn't wearing any undergarments, allowing them to reach between his shivering legs where they found his flaccid cock hiding in between. It was a pathetic shrunken thing, as paralyzed with shame and dread has he was, but that didn’t stop her.

“My poor love. Do you want me to comfort you? Do you want me to touch you?”

“No, no, I don’t. Please don’t…” He stammered, flustered and terrified, he shut his eyes in shame.

He gasped when he felt the touch of her soft warm hands on him, cupping the head of his cock.

“You remember that time when I left my chamber in Eyrie and you first set eyes on me in my black feather dress? When I came down the stairs I smiled at you, and something stirred in your heart, as much as it did in your loins. Can you open your eyes now Petyr? Open them and look at me the same way you looked at me then?" She leaned over him, gently stroking his cheeks. "I want you to see me." She whispered into his ear, as he slowly opened his hooded eyes. "Do you see me now Petyr?" She breathed. "Do you see me kissing you?”

Soft lips, sweet and wet, pressed down onto his own cracked split lips. She gazed at him longingly and ran her tongue over the little cuts. It stung, but at same time it was warm and soothing. She then shifted her body and pulled up her dress, climbing on top of him. Her warm naked thighs wrapped around his thin shivering legs and buttocks. The little patch of soft red curls that hid her sex tickled his skin when she lowered herself onto him. The moistness of her labia barely brushed over the tip of his now hardening cock. Petyr let out a whimper and struggled against his bonds, his body jerking upwards. Sansa, smiling, pushed him back down with a gentle hand.

“Don’t fight it." She whispered. "I am giving you what you want Petyr. After all these horrors. After all that terrible suffering - After everything you have been through, let me just give you this. Let there at least be a little kindness to console you.”

She looked down at him, so very affectionately, so very lovingly. Her unexpected tenderness, which had become such a precious rare thing in his life, broke him. It shattered his heart into a million pieces, and moved him to tears.

She placed a gently kiss on his bruised cheeks and tasted the salt of his tears that ran down the fines lines near the corners of his eyes. “Don’t cry.” She whispered. “Forget about where you are. It's no longer important. Just listen to sound of my voice, and I will tell you everything you ever wanted to hear. I love you Petyr. I have forgiven you. You don’t need to beg and suffer anymore. I am here, and I will stay with you. I will not abandon you."

She moved her hand downwards, fingertips tracing over the long jagged scare left behind by her uncle Brandon, and lingering over the countless others that had been inflicted on him by Ramsay’s cruelty. She hooked her hand under his thigh and pushed two fingers into his hole. Petyr whimpered and wriggled helplessly, but she kept pushing and retracting, at first gently to loosen him, then slowly increasing the strength and rate. She lowered herself further down on him and let his twitching cock, already slick and swollen with his juices, gently slide into her. Petyr's body jerked pathetically, his movement completely restricted, his face flushed radiant with shame and want.

“It’s alright Petyr.” She told him. “It’s alright. Trust me. Let yourself go.”

She noticed his nipples hardening with arousal, and took them between her lips. Petyr’s shivered uncontrollably, and a tiny moan escaped him when she sucked on the tips, and ran her tongue around the pink sensitive flesh. She shifted on top of him, guiding his cock to slip deeper inside her, her velvet softness contracting around his shaft. Her actions brought him into such a desperate needy state. He needed her. He needed her to fuck him till he came. He whimpered, he squirmed, whatever was left of his mind gradually slipping away, beyond his control, till he was transformed into this frantic, panting creature that silently begged with wide fearful eyes to his mistress for what he wanted.

She thrust her fingers in, slow and hard, going deeper every time, till it hit his prostrate. Petyr gasped, his vision hazy, his mind lost to desire. His mouth left gaping, struggling for breath. Then she squeezed his cock inside her, applying the pressure, flowing with a slow pulsation, her cunt milking him like a maid would a stupid beast in the field, while she continued to fuck him from behind. Her free hand caressed his flustered cheeks, while her thumb trailed over the cuts of his lips.

“Suck.” She ordered, and he obeyed when she pushed her thumb inside his mouth. He was lost in a trance, chest heaving, his bruised, reed thin legs spasming, the leather cuffs around his ankles straining and cutting deeper into his skin. He could no longer speak, there was no mind left for words, there were only broken gasps and moans and whimpers. Everything about her was so soft, and warm and slick, and loving and kind and beautiful. He would take whatever she gave him, and do whatever she asked of him, no matter how shameful.

She rode him like an amazon her riding animal, working on his cock and clenching hole till his whole body shuddered and he was soaked in sweat. Petyr lost himself completely, and was kept in a constant state of arousal, right till morning broke and the harsh white lights in his cell were automatically switched back on.

He was not immediately fully aware that she had left him. He had been drifting in and out consciousness, each time waking in a dreamlike state with his cock twitching and leaking helplessly, while his balls twanged with painful heaviness. She had played with him all night, but she had never allowed him to come. He whimpered when he finally realized that she was gone. Left in a utterly desperate state, and not able to think of anything else but his own rock hard erection that pushed awkwardly against the fabric of his hospital robe, he buckled his hips and thrust upwards against his restrains. The leather crotch-strap that ran between his legs just brushed ever so maddeningly slightly against his swollen cock, making him experience just a faint hint of pleasure. However, to a poor wretch like him who had been denied so much, it was like God given mercy. So he kept rutting against the straps, masturbating himself into a sweaty frenzy, right until Clegane clocked in, and saw what a pathetic mess he had become. 

“You bloody loon!" His warden rasped. "What the fuck have you been doing?”

Petyr could no longer speak, but whimpered and moaned to his warden. He had been left almost mindless, and had been restlessly twitching for hours without end, his needy hole clenching uncontrollably with nothing more to fill it, while his cock and balls were left swollen and full. He couldn’t understand how he could feel so excruciatingly empty and unbearably full all at the same time, but this was exactly how she had left him. She had turned him into a sad whimpering creature with little reason that was begging for release, no matter how much he had to debase himself.

“Please. Please.” Was all he managed to utter. His eyes pleading. His poor body bursting, squirming, wriggling against his restrains like a slick eel. He continued his frenzied humping to get any stimulation, however little, from the strain on his crotch strap with each thrust in the air.

"I am not allowed to touch you, you little lunatic, but if you want me to make it stop."

Sandor came over and crushed Pertyr’s cock between his fingers, making him cry out, the agony and the sheer humiliation of it bringing fresh tears to his eyes. It should have done the trick, but after several attempts the tormented organ still remained stubbornly and painfully erect.

Sandor cursed like a drunken sailor and released Petyr from his bed to drag him to the showers. Without freeing him from his straight jacket, he hosed him down with ice-cold water, aiming between his legs while Petyr cried out in shock and huddled away in the corner, turning his face away to the tiled walls.

For fuck’s sake.” Sandor rasped, after he had turned the water off and saw the erect organ still pocking through Petyr's sodden robe. “What have those idiots given you last night? Did they mix up your medication again?”

Petyr muttered a string of gibberish that sounded like mournful pleads. Shivering of cold, and rocking back to front with his back against the wet tiles, he still  tried to masturbate by making his crotch strap scrape over the offensive bulge repeatedly.

“Fucking hell! You are really fucked up, you know that?” Sandor growled with as much disgust as pity in his voice. "You're a pathetic fucking mess." He rolled his eyes and grabbed a chair, sat down and pointing at his leg. “Come on then you little loon. Do it before somebody comes in and sees this humiliating shit.”

"It took a while before Petyr's drug and arousal fueled mind understood what the Hound offered him. Finally, he crawled towards Sandor on shaky legs. Petyr looked up at his warden one more time to make sure, before he greedily pushed Sandor's leg between his thighs, pressing the muscular limb hard against his painful bulge. He rubbed against his warden’s knee, like a dog rutting against his master's leg, working himself up till every muscle in his loins and legs was violently contracting. He jaw dropped and his mouth gasped for air, huffing breathlessly, his face contorted as his cock spurted weakly, soling his warden's trousers. It was close, so achingly close, but still no complete release. He whimpered loudly, so full distress and horrible frustration, and continued to rut against Sandor's leg, rubbing so hard now that his most sensitive parts started to burn.

"Are you still not done?" Sandor sighed. "It’s fucking taking forever." Petyr yelped desperately when the orderly pushed him away with a rough hand. _No, no. don’t please._ A little dribble of drool ran down his chin as he gazed pleadingly up at Sandor, his last scraps of his sanity disappearing as he was left trembling of need. _Please please, let me come, let me come. I am nothing in here. They have reduced me to nothing. Please, please, at least allow me to have this. Please. Please.  
_

 He cried out in fear when Sandor pulled up his robe to expose his ass, and pushed a round plastic shampoo bottle between his buttocks. Petyr thought his warden was going to violently force it in like Ramsay used to do, ripping the tender flesh to make him bleed while he ruthlessly fucked him from behind, but the Hound was surprisingly gently. He didn’t force anything, but just let the blunt end of the bottle press against the soft entrance, providing just enough pressure to stimulate his prostrate when he held it in the right angle. It made Petyr squirm of arousal, his balls and belly tingling.

“Go on then." Sandor rasped. "Get busy and be done with it.”

Petyr moaned loudly when Sandor started to thrust the bottle against his hole. His tongue lolling, he felt his arousal spread through his body like wildfire, Instinctively, he pushed back to enforce it, fucking himself against Clegane’s hold like one of his well trained whores in his brothels, while at the same time, kept rutting his swollen tormented cock against Clegane’s leg. He felt something jerk violently inside his belly, and finally - _finally_ \- he came. He pressed and twisted and wriggled and panted, digging his erection into the fabric of Clegan’s trousers, body jerking helplessly, as he spurted again and again and again, his brain completely given over to lust as his juices exploded onto his warden’s leg. He buried his face in his leg-pipe, trembling, as his cock continued to leak and spurt, soaking everything with this sticky slickness.

He was fully spent. His abused body finally sated. Weak like a kitten, he crumbled to the floor, reduced now to nothing more but a mad quivering wreck. In his slowly recovering mind, he began to realize how he had completely degraded himself.

It absolutely mortified him.

Too full of shame to look Clegan in the eyes, he let himself be hosed clean, providing little to no resistance to his warden.

 _She said she wanted to offer me a little kindness._ He thought, after Clegan had bound him back onto the bed, his gagged mouth drooling, his arms still restrained in the now soaking wet straight jacket, his blood popping and fizzing with whatever destructive chemical cocktail he had injected into him for sedation. His poor cock was now jailed inside a metal cage to keep him from getting aroused and making such a disgusting mess again _. A little kindness._ Petyr thought, completely exhausted, just before he began to drift off into a deep dreamless sleep.

_As if there really was such a thing in this cursed place._

 

 **Notes:** That's it! If you want to read how poor Petyr ended up here, (yes there was actually a plot in the series, would you believe it!): Go to

[ **Fickle games (Mock(ing)bird part II),**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12852471/chapters/29350281) or if you have oceans of time to waste, begin with **[Mock(ing)bird part I.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12031584/chapters/27236127)**

 As always, kudos, comments, rants, reviews or whatever I can get are very much welcome.

 

 


End file.
